


Never Letting Go

by quartetship



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Flashbacks, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 09:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12504752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartetship/pseuds/quartetship
Summary: It all started in a nightclub...





	Never Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [avoidingavoidance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidingavoidance/gifts).



> This fic was originally written for the Hance zine, Eventide. Based on [this beautiful song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0yW7w8F2TVA). Dedicated to my sweet, wonderful partner Charlie, who I adore wholeheartedly. I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> \--

As well as Hunk can remember, his life began in a nightclub.

Of course, he wasn't born there. His childhood wasn't spent beneath flashing, colored lights and among writhing, sweaty bodies, but his college years were. It was there that he hoped every night that he'd find some inspiration, someone to put a smile on his face for the evening. One night, he found far more than he could have ever dreamed possible.

Hunk’s life truly began when he bumped into another young man, in his usual Saturday evening haunt. In the low, strobing lights, the guy looked like a model, dark glasses on despite the already pitch-black room dotted with glow sticks and disco balls. His smile was bright enough to cut through the blackness, though, and Hunk’s mouth went dry at the sight of it.

His name was Lance, and when he pulled Hunk after him out onto the dance floor, Hunk’s blood ran warm and fast for the first time in what felt like all of his life.

“You're a great dancer,” Lance shouted, though amidst the noise of the club it hit Hunk’s ears like a whisper. “And really cute, too!”

It was the first time anyone had pulled him from a crowd just to say something like that to him. Hunk had been praised before, but he knew by his early twenties that he wasn't ever going to be the type of man that other people chose first. The fact that Lance had taken his hand at all felt like an alarming stroke of good luck, so he couldn't keep himself from asking the obvious question.

“Thanks. You, too. You, uh… You come here with anybody?”

Laughing loud enough to be heard above the music, Lance shook his head. “No one at all. Why? You lookin’ for someone to leave with?”

Hunk felt his face catch fire at the question. “Well, I… I don't know. I'll get back to you on that.” As soon as the words left him, he felt foolish. Lance didn't seem to feel the same way, though. He looped arms around Hunk’s neck and let his head fall back on another beautiful, intoxicating laugh.

“You're great. You want something to drink? First round’s on me!”

Already drunk on Lance's energy, Hunk nodded and followed him to the dance floor.

\--

Every drink Hunk had that evening went down smoother than it had any right to.

With Lance across the table from him between trips to the dance floor, he felt his fears leaving him. Of course, the vodka didn't hurt in loosening his shoulders or his tongue, but neither did the gorgeous pair of blue eyes that never seemed to leave his face.

“I'm here a lot, yeah,” he admitted as they talked, Lance’s fingers making slow circles on the back of his hand as they did. “I always hope I'm gonna meet somebody, but I'm not exactly a first-round draft pick, you know?”

“Now that's baloney,” Lance snorted, though his expression didn't even suggest that he was joking. “I've never seen anyone quite like you. Anyone who'd overlook a cute boy with those muscles?” He reached across the table, squeezing Hunk’s upper arm and biting his lip as he winked. “They need their eyes examined. Or their head.” He tipped his drink back and finished it, and Hunk realized he'd lost count of how many either of them had had. Lance sighed, smiling like a pleased cat. “Anyway, that's fine. Means more of you for me.”

He pulled Hunk by the hand again, and Hunk didn't ask if they were headed for the bar or the dance floor. It didn't really matter. That night, wherever Lance was leading, he was following.

\--

Where he ended up following Lance by the end of the evening was home. They'd both had far too much to drink, and Hunk couldn't stand the thought of Lance making his way home alone. If it meant he got a few goodnight kisses out of the deal as well? All the better.

Despite the fact that the cab ride back to Lance’s downtown apartment was quiet and quick, Hunk felt his entire world shift as the numbers on the dash meter clicked by. Curled up under his arm, Lance breathed slowly, deeply, completely at peace despite knowing him for less than a day. Kissing the top of Lance’s head absently, Hunk felt the same comfort, the same assurance that Lance seemed to; the sun would rise the next day, the hangover would come and go, and there would still be something special between the two of them.

He walked Lance out of the car, up the stairs to his unit, and the short length to his bedroom with a smile on his face.

Knowing the evening was at an end, Hunk wanted to say something romantic. He wanted Lance to know how incredible he felt, just being with him, and how good Lance made him feel. For the first time in his life, Hunk felt like he was enough, not only for someone else but for himself. Lance had not changed anything about him or made anything better, but rather shown him all the reasons he was already worthy of love. Hunk wanted to tell him so, to part on a perfectly sweet note and leave Lance with a good memory to sleep on.

Instead, he found himself scrambling around Lance's half-lit bedroom after Lance mumbled, “Can you hand me my trash can?”

It wasn't ideal. It wasn't anything Hunk had ever imagined for himself. But he ended the most wonderful date of his life brushing stray strands of hair back from Lance’s sweaty face as he threw up, still somehow, unexplainably happy just to be there. He had no idea why it warmed his chest to be the one beside him, to be an arm across his shoulders and a soft, soothing voice in his ear as Lance paid for the fun they'd had that evening.

Then Lance turned around, looked over his shoulders with the sweetest, fondest look in his eyes and smiled, and Hunk knew.

All at once, the quiet, background buzzing in his brain that reminded him that he was still very drunk disappeared, and he felt sharply sober and aware of what he was doing. Beside him, Lance sighed, seemingly feeling better, and let himself slump over onto Hunk’s shoulder for a moment. With his warm, slight weight resting there, Hunk realized exactly why everything about the worst end to a good night still felt perfect.

He knew then that he loved Lance McClain, and even if it took him years to figure out how to tell him, he would never forget that night and that moment.

The only goodnight kiss he got out of the deal was a soft press of his own lips to Lance’s forehead as he tucked him in, but not before leaving his phone number scribbled on a piece of paper he found at his date’s bedside.

The next morning would surely be harder than it had to be, but Hunk still welcomed its arrival, the start of a life he hadn't known he was missing before he'd smiled that first smile at Lance.

\--

The days after that first night flew by, each one better than the last. Before Hunk stops to think about how much they've grown since then, they're older and wiser, but still gasping in lovestruck wonder between stolen kisses. Some things never change.

\--

It's fifteen years later, now. Hunk still smiles at Lance with every chance that he gets.

Life slows for no man, no matter how in love he might be, but its incessant march forward has been good to Hunk. He and Lance have a little house in a quiet neighborhood and three growing children that sleep under its roof with them. Their oldest is nearing the age of ten, with his younger sister in preschool, and their youngest son still sleeps in a bassinet at their bedside. When he brings Lance’s breakfast into their room that morning, the baby is asleep on Lance's chest, and Hunk has to take a moment to remind himself to breathe without crying.

Lance looks up at him, giving him a tired smile that nevertheless reaches all the way to his eyes. Even though tiny lines have formed at their corners, those eyes still sparkle as beautifully as they did the night that Lance first danced into his life. Hunk brings him a cup of coffee and places a quiet kiss atop his head, breathing in the sight of his husband still wrapped in a robe and cradling their baby.

It's everything Hunk has ever wanted, and in a decade and a half, he still hasn't found quite the right words to tell Lance as much.

“I'll take the kids to school,” he settles on for the time being. “Be back around lunchtime, okay?”

He departs with two kids in tow, and the memory of Lance’s softly smiling lips pressed to his.

\--

It's a little after his usual lunch hour when Hunk returns home, but when Lance beams at him through the kitchen window, he knows he's not in trouble.

He never really is, where Lance is concerned.

Inside, Lance is busy working on plans for a family meal for the coming weekend, a monthly get-together for extended family and friends alike. It's these kinds of things where he still excels, how he still brightens other people's lives simply by being a part of them. It's standing in their kitchen in sweatpants and one of Hunk’s old t-shirts where Hunk walks in to find him, and he simply can't help himself.

“I wanna dance with you,” he says, putting his keys, his wallet, everything in his hands on the kitchen counter, forgotten for the moment. “Right now.”

“Like this?” Lance laughs, looking down at himself, but Hunk only nods and closes the gap between them, slipping arms around his waist.

“Why not?” He smiles. “Baby’s asleep.” He takes a few small steps and Lance follows, eyebrow raised.

“What brought this on, big guy?” he asks.

Hunk shrugs. “Can't stop thinking about how lucky I am, having you for all these years.”

At that, Lance laughs, shaking his head. “We don't have much, though. Wish we had more to show for all of our hard work. You'd think by now we would've been better off.” He looks down at the floor beneath their feet, not a shiny, strobe-lit dance floor any longer, but one of worn, quilt-patterned tile.

Hunk takes hold of his chin and tips it upward, waiting for those beautiful blue eyes to meet his before speaking. “That doesn't matter to me,” he says honestly. “You know that. You do. You and the kids.” He strokes his thumb over Lance’s chin, over his cheek, his skin still as smooth and soft as it ever has been. “You're as beautiful as ever, you know that? Every day, you just get better. Now you're my husband, the father of my kids. And you still love me, for god knows what reason.”

Finally, Lance laughs, happier this time. “I've always loved you, you dork. Always will.” He prods Hunk hard in the chest. Hunk takes him by that hand and moves the two of them to some imaginary music, and Lance rings like he can hear it, somehow.

“And that's already worth its weight in gold,” Hunk tells him. “I can't even tell you how many times I think exactly that, every day.”

“That so?” Lance asks, and his head is tilted at the same precocious, cheeky angle that Hunk remembers from their first night, together. He nods, pulling Lance closer to his chest.

“I've never been great with words, but even if I stumble all over ‘em, I'm gonna tell you how perfect you are until my voice gives out.” He kisses Lance, with more urgency than he has in far too long. “I'm gonna love you that hard. That long. ‘Til I've got nothing left to love you with, and then I'll find some more.” With each promise, he kisses Lance again, speaking every word with the conviction of a wedding vow, even a dozen years after his real ones.

“And maybe one of these days, even if it takes until we're grey and old, I'm gonna show you how much you mean to me. You gave me a life I never would've had without your love. A husband, a home, three kids - you're where it all started, baby. And as long as you don't want me to, I'm never letting go of how good it feels being next to you.”

Lance seems won over at last, eyes shining like he might cry despite the brilliance of his smile and the glow of his reddened cheeks. He bites his lip before stealing another kiss.

“No plans to stop wanting you, babe. Don't care if we're ghosts. Not gonna stop being crazy about you.”

They dance for a while, after that. All these years later, there is no music, no writhing dancers on either side of them, no flickering lights to move their bodies beneath. There is only a small, bright kitchen in a little brick house, miles from where their life together began. It doesn't feel so far, though. After all, they're still the same two boys at heart.

Hunk's world is just as beautiful, standing in front of him in their shared home, as it was fifteen years earlier, the night that he came to know it. He knows now that it always will be, that Lance, their life, their love will always be the stars in his sky, burning as brightly as they ever have, lighting every darkened night.

“Likewise,” he says with lips pressed to the shell of Lance’s ear, and he hopes it speaks the volumes that his voice alone cannot. He hopes it sounds like the promise that it's meant to. He only hopes it speaks of everything he means, that he loves Lance more with every moment shared between them, and that he's never letting go.

\--

Fifteen years later, when their youngest son asks his father's how their lives together started out, Hunk can only smile, the memory still as strong and sweet as it was the morning after.

“It all started in a nightclub.” He grins, and by the time he finishes the story he and Lance are dancing, as their children look on.


End file.
